


In the Deep Midwinter

by karlht



Category: Firefly
Genre: Character Study, Friendship/Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23459029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karlht/pseuds/karlht
Summary: (Written Nov 2006.   I figure that more than thirteen years later, it's safe to post.)Inara has a rough night, and finds comfort from an unexpected source.
Relationships: Inara Serra & Hoban "Wash" Washburne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	In the Deep Midwinter

It was late when she returned to Serenity, and the rest of the crew was already asleep, preparing for an early departure in the morning. She docked her shuttle with practiced ease, tension leaving her with the familiar whoosh of the air-lock doors. She walked into the galley, made a cup of tea with the water from shipbard stores to wash the too-sweet wine taste from her mouth. When had endlessly recycled water boiled with tea of dubious quality become a taste of 'home' to her? She almost missed his footfalls as he came back to the galley from the bridge.

"You didn't call for docking permission." His voice was soft, curious, concerned. No hostility at all.

She looked down into her tea. "I didn't think anyone would be awake, with the busy day tomorrow." A sudden thought. "I hope you didn't stay up waiting."

He hesitated for just a fraction of a second, and his eyes stopped their merry twinkling. He was, she realized with a start, considering lying to her.

"Wash, what is it? Are you all right? Is Zoe ... ?"

"Zoe's fine. I'm ... I'm not sleeping well. Bad dreams. Niska."

She shuddered, not wanting to think about how close they had come to losing him. As much to take her mind from such matters as to comfort him, she asked quietly, "Have a cup of tea with me?"

"Of course, Inara. I would be happy to keep you company." She raised her eyebrows at the somewhat formal turn of phrase, wondering how much he knew of tea ritual among Companions, and how much was just him following her own linguistic habits.

He brought his mug from the cupboard, and she poured for him with a smile. He sat across from her at the big table, cradling the warm mug in his hands, letting the vapors from the tea tickle his nose. "Thanks," he nearly whispered, "Didn't realize how cold my hands had gotten on the bridge."

She let herself study his face through the steam, this man who was so ready with a smile or a joke or a comforting word, this man who never, ever treated her as if her profession made her anything less than who she was. If he had been born on a Core world, he would have made a good Companion, she thought -- he was empathic and strong, and she didn't think Zoe was the sort of woman to stay with someone who couldn't hold his own in the bedroom. The sudden vision of them together made her insides clench with something that might have been desire, or envy. She chided herself silently for her lack of control; she was more tired than she thought.

"Did he treat you that badly?" The question was so soft, so unexpected, that she didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the thought that he could see it more clearly than she could.

"Oh, no," she replied, seeking to salve her professional pride, though she didn't understand quite why. "He was very charming, and took me to dinner in the city's finest restaurant, to the opera, and back to an opulent hotel." Customary discretion made her pause there, but at his questioning gaze, she felt she should explain her hours-before-dawn return. "He told me he didn't want to subject me to his snoring, so I was free to go ... afterward." She was very proud of herself; her voice did not quaver at all as she said it.

Wash cursed, softly and fluently, in Chinese that would have scorched the parchment it was set down on. His English was equally soft but much less vulgar: "Well, his loss is our gain, though I can't imagine doing the same in his shoes, er, slippers, er, bare feet. Even if my wife couldn't kill me with her pinky. I'm glad you're home safe, where you only have to put up with the snores of people who love you."

Inara's head snapped up so quickly it was almost audible. "What are you talking about?"

"Let's start with the simplest: Kaylee adores you. You're the most glamourous woman she's ever seen, let alone met. And you treat her like a sister, with tenderness and care; of course she's going to adore you. And you take care of River when the Doc gets his hands full, and you don't treat her like she's a thing or a crazy girl. So of course Simon is hugely grateful. And I think you remind him of home, a little. Civilised places, people who live in real houses and throw parties just to have something to do. As long as he can sit and drink tea with you and talk about civilised things, he hasn't gone completely over to the barbarian hordes. River quiets down when she's around you, even fell asleep in your lap those few times, remember? The Shepherd does, for sure; I don't know what he was remembering as he watched you stroke her hair, but I've never seen him that close to tears before. Jayne doesn't express it the way most of us do, but he's risked his neck for you as much as for the rest of us, and if you'd told me that was even possible a few months ago, I'd have asked you if you'd ever met him. Mal is crazy about you, of course. But our esteemed captain doesn't do very well with tenderness -- too vulnerable, not _měngnán_ 1 enough for him. So he'll strike sparks with you and you'll drive each other _fēngkuáng_ 2 and maybe you'll fall into bed one day. But never, ever doubt that he'll brave hell itself to pull you out of harm's way. And Zoe made up her mind the first time you stood up to Mal, I suspect."

Who was this serious, earnest observer, and where had the happy-go-lucky pilot gone? "And you, Wash?"

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. 猛男: "macho, excessively masculine."
> 
> 2\. 瘋狂: "crazy; mentally deranged."


End file.
